


affiliation

by ywmjk



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: ??? - Freeform, Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, Marriage Proposal, fluctuations of a writing style, no marriage yet, should there be a marriage??
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 12:00:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28545213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ywmjk/pseuds/ywmjk
Summary: let me tell you a lie; plenty things could be much more complicated than a marriage proposal.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Kudos: 3





	affiliation

**Author's Note:**

> happy new year! another year in quarantine to plunge us deeper into our roots — for entertainment's sake. stay healthy!♡ i had this idea while i was trying to stop my puppy from destroying my entire shoewear collection, which is irrelevant and completely disjointed from the idea, but anyways, enjoy the fic!!

  
harry potter had an interesting way of standing out. he's not necessarily someone you'd mark out of an ordinary crowd, not someone special or someone you could tell was special, but something about his messy black hair and oversized glasses and the way he stood awkwardly, poised but _absolutely_ _not_ , holding himself in such a way that is both grounding and clumsy. like he's saying he's capable of something, whatever what something is. not in the way he's confident or over-assured, but _just_. draco couldn't explain it if he tried anyway — he could never elucidate harry potter, his words won't fit right, and it's never nearly enough.

or maybe he was just hyper-aware of potter. sometimes its foggy — sometimes days pass in a blur without draco thinking much of anything, and at the end of those days, one of the very first thoughts that come to his head was; _oh, i haven't thought much of potter these days_.

it isn't a necessity or a personality trait, draco would often remark angrily in his head, _there's no need to think about harry potter_. other funny days he'll speak to it humorously; _i am addicted to harry potter_. he'll laugh in his head and then feel a little odd, a little sad, then a little angry.

too far. too many thoughts about harry potter, yet draco barely knew him. it was something he realised after the war, that he barely knew his enemy. he couldn't even describe him. somehow enemy is barely fitting.

draco could see harry was doing well. he has friends and a girlfriend, and he knew potter has lost incredibly much and that he's hurting, and maybe he's not sleeping soundly (definitely not sleeping soundly), but he's got _people_. and he'll do alright, eventually. it's what draco hated the most about him, really — harry potter has family. and draco isn't a part of it.

its pathetic to admit aloud, or even as a wistful thought. he'd be part of any family, really. somewhere where his didn't royally fuck up.

draco only felt residue of whatever anger was left in him, which quickly dissipated, and sighed. this is to having no company — his thoughts wander around without his control. it didn't help that potter was always somewhere in sight. not many people came back for eighth year, quite obviously. but potter did. his friends did, his girlfriend didn't. longbottom and lovegood did, and the rest of the gryffindor bunch. the whole ravenclaw bundle and barely any hufflepuffs. and him. despite being in azkaban his father still managed to make him return to the worst place imaginable — with his mother's ridiculous saying, 'he wanted this for you'. draco gritted his teeth.

draco can feel potter look away, at that moment. he can feel it everytime potter glanced at him, or stared at him, and see it when he opens and closes his mouth like a fish, or quickly dart his eyes away, sometimes looking bizarrely doe-eyed and nervous.

he hated it.

his face burns from what potter can freely assume as anger, but draco himself knew that it wasn't, not entirely, which, in truth, pissed him off. part of him wanted to say something along the lines of, _for fuck's sake, if you've got something to say, potter, say it_ , while the other part goes something like this; _the fuck are you looking at, potter_? the latter part, is which he prefers.

potter glanced again. _can't keep your eyes off me, can't you potter_? draco kept his eyes unmoving and his mouth tight, staring into nothing. he began to try to think of absolutely anything else other than potter's curious eyes, like the eighth year gathering this evening. 

houses are scarcely important this year, since they all live in a single dorm with single rooms and attend all of the same classes. eighth years have a gathering every friday night, where they pretend to be normal students again, like they haven't witnessed the things they've witnessed, where they talk about famous, ripped wizards or _merlin, i thought they were perfect for each other_! _why did they break up_? or _i_ _'m going to be an auror, i think_. draco never attended the gatherings. nobody said a word about it. 

apparently aside from gossip, apparently they play games. magic games or muggle games, and sometimes muggle movies. draco thought this must be one of their games, or maybe a dream, a mildly okay one for the first time in roughly ten years.

because harry potter was walking towards him. actually, he's arrived, perched at the bedside of his table. the rest of the class is clearing. he must've dozed off. maybe he's still dozing off, and is asleep. harry potter is pink-cheeked. he's not looking at draco's direction.

“what?”

apparently this startles potter.

“er.”

 _a potter classic_. don't trust the savior of the wizarding world to carry a decent conversation. 

“what?” draco asks again, packing his books and preparing to leave. he signals potter the nonexistent urgency, and potter is still not looking at him. potter's fingers trace the wooden table, but draco couldn't tell what he was drawing. 

“are you coming to the er, gathering, today?”

“no.” draco answers flatly.

“oh.” 

several beats of silence. draco needn't forsee the future to know that this particular conversation is pointless. “well, i'm off.” 

potter half-smiles, looking somehow defeated. “it'll be nice if you'd come.”

boredly, draco asked, “nice for who?” 

potter splutters. “just — nice.” 

_how odd_. “no.” 

potter's shoulders drop down, looking like he's given up on something he won't even bother trying. “alright.”

draco left. the conversation would pester him for hours, and would have pestered him for days if potter hadn't shown up again, that evening, the same exasperated look, though now his feet and hands are fidgeting against one another.

at first, he asks draco to come to the gathering. draco had said no. somehow it was getting annoying.

then, potter shrugs and left for what seems to be under a minute, then came back and sheepishly asked, “will you marry me?” 

it was both extremely ridiculous and sudden that draco didn't even have the chance to bluescreen. instead he immediately adopted an unfiltered expression that says, _ha_ , in contrary to potter seemingly holding himself up as to not melt to the floor in embarrassment. 

“is this a dare?” draco asked bluntly, although his mind is something of a chaotic fire, his face remained unamused.

potter once again opens and closes his mouth, only to repeat, “will you marry me?” 

_what kind of a first-year dare is this_? _at the very least add a stripping element to it_. “sure.” is what draco finds himself saying, and okay, maybe his brain short-circuited after all. what the hell is he doing? 

obviously, it was potter's turn to bluescreen. the entirety of him was red. “i asked you to marry me,” he choked. 

“i heard you. i said sure.”

“oh, right, of course.” potter waved a hand over his flushing face, “i thought i misheard you, that's all.” 

draco raised a brow. 

potter stared at him. his expression turned into amusement, and then a breathy laugh. “you're no fun.” 

draco fought a smile. he should not be smiling. anyways, what kind of a playful aura is this? draco's never had this before. 

“would you have preferred the usual, _piss off, potter_? a hex or two, as a bonus?” he said mockingly. for a second he thought maybe that was a bad joke, maybe this wasn't the right time, maybe he's fucked up, he shouldn't have said that.

but potter chuckled, rightened himself. he seems to be at loss of words before saying, “but i asked you to marry me, and you said yes.” he is getting brighter red every second, though his tone was smug. “no take backs.”

somehow this could be a trap. “of course not. i accepted, didn't i?” 

“okay,” potter smiled. “then would you come to the gathering?” 

“no.” 

“your fiancée is asking you to.” 

“ _your_ fiancée — is saying no. respect him.” 

potter rolled his eyes. “fine.” he shifted his hand away from the door, backing. “then i'll be off first.” 

draco said nothing. the situation hadn't yet caught up to him. 

“i'll see you around, malfoy.” potter offered one last smile, and then left.

what would happen after is draco staring over at what used to be where potter stood, for approximately twenty minutes, then blanking out, then was slightly frantic for under thirty seconds, then replaying the conversation for over two hours in his bed. it was too fast, too unreal. to weird to ever happen. _did it even happen_?

 _what the bloody fucking fuck was that_?

**Author's Note:**

> comments are always a marvel.


End file.
